


Laid Bare

by Llaeyro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Bondage, Bottom Draco, Community: hp_kinkfest, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dom for Hire, Dom/sub, M/M, Overstimuation, POV Draco Malfoy, Pinching, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Scratching, Size Kink, Spanking, Subspace, Younger Dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9833102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llaeyro/pseuds/Llaeyro
Summary: ’This wasn’t just the shock of finding his son’s best friend, or even Potter’s son, in a bondage club, working as a dominant for hire. It was seeing the boy, free of the usual jeans, a t-shirt and trainers that he had so often worn to the manor, now a smartly dressed man.’





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [birdsofshore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsofshore/gifts).



> Written for hp_kinkfest 2-17 for a prompt by birdsofshore.
> 
> [Read on LJ](http://hp-kinkfest.livejournal.com/187015.html).

Draco stepped into the room and drew his wand, easily locking the door. The intricate spell had become so familiar, just another part of the routine. As with every visit, Draco had written a new password down and left it at the desk, spelled only to be read by his dominant partner for that evening. He took the door to the right, the one through which only he could enter, as per the rules of the club.

A quick glance around the changing room and so far everything appeared to be arranged to his specifications. Pale blue tiles lined the walls of the small room. A few hooks hung on the wall over a bench with a shelf underneath. Opposite, a sink stood between a full-length mirror and a shower cubicle. Draco shrugged off his robes quickly, hanging them neatly on the hooks, tucking his shoes onto the shelf and folding his socks within them. Lastly, he folded his pants, laid them upon the bench and stepped up to the full-length mirror.

Everything was in order, of course; flat stomach, taut chest, defined arm muscles and not a hair out of place. He was already half-hard just from the promise of what was to come, his cock starting to arch out slightly from the neatly trimmed nest of fair curls at its base. He ran his hands down his flawless chest, letting his palms drag over his nipples as he moved them down his stomach, fanning across his thighs to his arse. He was about to turn when he spotted it. A mole. Only one, and very small, but unmistakably a mole on his hip. His jaw tightened in frustration before deciding with a sigh that it wasn’t worth wasting time over at this point. They probably wouldn’t even notice.

Draco turned, looking over his shoulder as he bent forward slightly. He braced his hand on the wall to lean a little more, spreading his legs to give himself a view of his pale, hairless crack. He knew it was unnecessary. The men that worked the club were well-paid and well-trained, but certainly not used to clients taking the time to bleach their arseholes. Nevertheless, Draco always enjoyed that brief moment of anticipation, followed by the wide-eyed wonder, barely suppressed gasp or sometimes just a long pause that marked their surprise at the sight. As much as he needed the release that these sessions offered him, he couldn’t help but hold on to that little bit of power to throw the other man off kilter. Draco pushed himself up and, with another cursory glance to ensure his possessions were in order, sauntered on into the toy room.

If the suite had not been set up correctly, according to Draco’s specific instructions, the toy room is where it would become apparent. It had been a long time since there had been any errors made by the establishment, but Draco always checked nonetheless. Hanging from the hooks on the wall, Draco could see nothing designed to fit inside his mouth or that would cover any part of his face or head. A good start. He gave the dildo shelves a cursory glance and, seeing none without a wide base, he moved on. It wouldn’t do for one of his standing to end up in St Mungo’s with such an item stuck up his arse. As usual, the pony and puppy play sets were absent from their baskets in the corner. Content that nothing had been left in the room that shouldn’t be, Draco began to muse over his needs for the afternoon.

With a flick of his wand, he covered the whips, leaving the paddles and crops available. Realising he wasn’t in the mood for sudden, sharp pain today, he covered the nipple clamps, too. The spreader bars were next for consideration. With the recent cold weather, Draco’s knee had been bothering him, so out went the bars with both wrist and ankle straps. The rest would do, Draco decided. He never liked to limit his dom’s creativity, as it also inhibited his own anticipation. He gave the dom’s door a quick glance before moving to the door of the play room.

He took the leather bracelet from the handle and slipped it over his hand, watching it magically tighten to fit snugly around his wrist. He held his wand to it.

“Red.” The bracelet glowed briefly, before returning to dark brown. Wand still held to the band he concentrated, letting the colour fill his mind. It glowed again, and dulled. All set. Draco’s stomach flipped nervously as he took hold of the handle to the play room. He wondered what he would see when he opened the door, if the layout alone might reveal which dom would be coming for him. With a quick glance at the closed door leading from the dom’s changing room, he turned the handle.

The room was rather… different. Often, Draco could pick out some clue as to who would be joining him. Some were particularly obvious: Mark favoured a dungeon setting, while Ben and Luke preferred an industrial feel, all concrete floors and pillars. Most preferred a boudoir of sorts, painted predominantly in one emotive colour and filled with their chosen style of furniture, often plushly upholstered. But this, this was rather unlike anything Draco had encountered before.

It was very simple. The four walls were painted sky blue, whereas the floor was a slightly darker shade. It wasn’t carpet, exactly, but it was soft. Draco expected it had some sort of charm upon it, to be firm yet forgiving. Affixed to the right wall, near the corner, there was a large green panel that stretched up and onto the ceiling. It was pitted with holes and slots, as if designed for a multitude of attachments. Draco paid little attention to the wall beside the door—it was the usual set up. It included the customary shelf for Draco’s wand and below it the hooks and shelves where the dom’s chosen toys will appear. In the far corner by the mirror there lay a pile of cushions, some large and oddly shaped. The feature that Draco couldn’t ignore, however, was the mirror wall opposite the door. It certainly offered some interesting opportunities.

Draco laid his wand on the shelf and looked for the usual mark on the floor. It was half way between the door and mirror, but slightly off-centre. He moved towards it and knelt down facing the mirror wall, as the arrow on the mark indicated. He shifted a little, checking his pose in the mirror, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed. He didn’t need to wait long.

The door opened behind him audibly but he kept his head down, listening carefully for the first clues. The man didn’t jangle as he stepped into the room, so it wasn’t Alex. It didn’t seem he’d come far into the room when he stopped. There was an unusual silence and Draco could feel hairs prickling to attention on the back of his neck.

“Can you submit?” came the man’s voice and Draco was glad his head was bowed to hide his frown. The unusual set up made sense now; they had sent him one of the new boys. He suppressed a sigh, and answered the question as if it had been asked correctly.

“I will submit.”

“No, _can_ you submit?” he emphasised, stepping forward. Draco could feel his presence, just over his left shoulder. “Look at me.”

An unusual command so early on, but Draco looked up, into the mirror, into a very unexpected face.

“Albus…” The surprise was evident in his tone as his head whipped around to stare at the man, not his reflection. This wasn’t just the shock of finding his son’s best friend, or even Potter’s son, in a bondage club, working as a dominant for hire. It was seeing the boy, free of the usual jeans, a t-shirt and trainers that he had so often worn to the manor, now a smartly dressed man. At a glance his suit appeared to be quite Muggle, but the fit was sublime nonetheless. It was a dark grey three-piece, with a matching tie against a white shirt. On his feet he wore boots, expensive looking reddish-browns with a bit of a heel. It wasn’t just the clothes and accessories, however. He stood with an uncharacteristic confidence, green eyes staring intently back at Draco through his messy fringe. That, at least, was familiar. He looked effortlessly powerful, standing there with his jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder.

“Answer the question,” Albus commanded.

“Can _you_ top me?” His gaze was piercing as he spoke. He knew this child. He was slight, gangly at times, quiet and reserved and Draco was not your typical well-behaved submissive. He was highly dubious as to why they had sent young Potter to him.

For a moment, Albus held his gaze. Then the act fell away, and the boy who used to visit the manor in the holidays was stepping around to face him, nervously rubbing his bicep as he shifted from foot to foot. “Look, Mr Malfoy. I’ve read your file. I didn’t know it was you until I came in here but it’s not the first time I’ve bumped into someone I know at work. I know I can provide what you need, but if it will be too weird for you, I can go swap for someone else.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “I very much doubt that you can provide what I need.”

His mouth twitched at the corner, as if suppressing a smirk. “How about a deal? If you don’t leave here satisfied, I will personally pay for the session.”

“You’re quite aware that I am more than capable of affording any luxury I wish to indulge in.” Draco tried to sound more boastful than indignant. It wasn’t particularly easy when one was kneeling on the floor, naked and half-hard.

Albus didn’t seem phased, he simply folded his arms. “And you’re quite aware that I live in a grotty little flat in Lewisham. It’s not about the money. It’s about the satisfaction of making me pay for the privilege.”

Well, Draco couldn’t fault his logic. It was quite a tempting offer. There was no doubting that the cost of the session would put a strain on Albus’s funds for the week. Anyhow, Draco knew how confidence alone could get you a long way in Albus’s line of work.

“Very well, Sir…” Draco acquiesced.

Albus allowed himself a pleased smile before turning and hanging his suit jacket on a hook on the wall. When he turned back, the awkward boy had gone. Albus stood tall, shoulders back, exuding assertiveness and authority.

“Ground rules. Firstly, eyes forward unless I tell you otherwise.”

Draco turned his head to face the mirror, eyes on Albus’s reflection once more.

“Secondly, you may speak, respectfully, without permission to do so.”

Most irregular. “ _Respectfully_ , I do not approve of that rule.”

“Tough. I will not give you the easiest way to defy me. I am not here to punish you. If a rough touch is what you need, then you will get it but for good behaviour. If you don’t like that, then you can safe-word out of here at any time. Understood?”

Well, that had not been what Draco had expected. The boy was particularly astute, he’d give him that. It was common practice for Draco to speak out of turn. He had made quite an art form of learning just how to rile up each of the establishment’s doms. If he wanted it harder, faster, rougher, Draco knew just what to say to each of them. But Albus wouldn’t be so easy.

And didn’t that make him interesting.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thirdly, you may come without permission.”

Draco couldn’t help himself. His head whipped around, looking straight at Albus.

“Eyes forward,” Albus scowled. “That is your only warning.”

“Apologies, Sir,” Draco said softly as he looked back to the mirror, “But I’ve never heard such preposterous rules before.”

Albus let loose a small, amused huff. “Is it more than you can manage?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No, Sir. I’ll manage. Although, I’m not sure why I should.”

“Explain.”

“Well, if I receive the punishments I want for good behaviour, what will you do if I do not behave?”

At that, Albus positively grinned. His tongue darted out slightly to wet his lips as he stepped forwards, leaning down to whisper in Draco’s ear.

“I will fuck you gently. Prepare you carefully, fuck you slow, leaving not a single mark or reminder of your session.”

“You wouldn’t,” Draco growled.

“Try me,” he replied flippantly, straightening up and loosening his tie. “Now, on your feet, I want a proper look at you.”

Draco had half a mind to refuse the hand that was offered to him, out of principle. Albus did know about his knee, however, and taking Albus’s hand in his certainly made the process quicker and less embarrassing. Draco took a quick moment to subtly stretch out his limbs before assuming the position; he clasped his hands behind his back, lowering his head before a light ‘tsk’ reminded him of Albus’s peculiar rules and he looked into the mirror ahead of him. Albus had stepped to the back of the room and returned with a crop.

"The crop already? How unorthodox."

“I like to be different,” Albus said as he walked past, shooting Draco a salacious grin that he could feel down to his toes. He turned sharply, surveying Draco from an angle, crop flipping up to rest on his shoulder. “Well that’s… odd.”

Draco didn’t rise to the bait. He just watched in his peripheral vision as Albus stepped forward, brow furrowed. Albus drew breath, as if about to speak, but instead brought the crop down to his side and started to circle Draco slowly. Draco watched his progress in the mirror, but he didn’t see Albus raise the whip. He only felt it drag slowly down his spine and along the crease between his buttock before falling away. Albus stopped in front of him, less than a foot away, but Draco kept his eyes on the mirror over Albus’s shoulder.

“Your body looks ridiculous.”

Draco barely managed to keep his gaze in check, but he couldn’t keep the indignation from his voice. “I beg your pardon, Sir?”

“Step forward, take a good look at yourself,” Albus instructed as he stepped aside, turning to stand beside Draco and look into the mirror. Draco stepped forward woodenly, cautious as to what game Albus was playing.

“I don’t see anything—”

“Exactly,” Albus cut in, turning to sweep the crop through the air, up and down Draco’s figure. “Nothing. No scars, no blemishes, no dry skin. Not even a mark where your socks have been.”

“I look after my skin.”

Albus moved uncomfortably close, tongue of the crop sliding lightly across Draco’s abdomen. “No scars,” he added, pointedly. “No moles—ah, hang on—What’s this?” He bent down, examining the escapee on Draco’s hip. “Miss one, did we?” Albus smirked. “You’re practically spotless.”

“If you think that’s impressive, just you wait—”

“Actually, it’s disappointing. I do this job because I enjoy my time with men. _Real_ men. Not perfect porcelain dolls.” Albus drew his wand from his waistcoat pocket. “I want to see the real you. May I?”

Draco’s jaw tightened. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

He could hear more than see the grin on Albus’s face. “Well, that isn’t technically ‘no’, is it?”

Draco wanted to protest, but now that he had been called on his primping practices, it did seem awfully vain and pretentious. Refusing seemed quite like losing some sort of unvoiced bet, so Draco remained silent.

“Very well. _Revelio_.”

Draco couldn’t help a soft, resigned sigh as he closed his eyes and felt the charm wash over him. He was grateful that Albus hadn’t thought to use the _Specialis_ and a quick glance in the mirror confirmed that his Mark scar remained hidden. From the feel of the spell, quick though it was, Draco suspected that it was not the only charm that remained in place. A silent victory, in his books.

“Much better,” Albus muttered as his eyes and the crop traced the thick scars across his chest and stomach, inflicted many years ago by the boy’s father. “This is the body of a man who has lived.”

Draco felt bared, but at least the charms he most cared about remained in place. He shivered as Albus dragged the tongue of the crop across his nipples. Albus’s answering grin was positively feral.

“Oh yes, that’s another thing. I’ve heard that you can be quite the vocal little sub.” He leaned close, so close that Draco wondered if Albus was planning to kiss him. “Don’t hold back.” He moved away smiling, Draco still feeling the ghost of his breath against his lips.

He took a moment to compose himself while Albus moved again to the equipment rack. Right, so. _Be vocal, be respectful, eyes on the mirror, come without permission_ , Draco reminded himself. He could manage that.

Perhaps.

When Albus returned to his side, Draco initially thought he was holding a strange bat of some sort. As he held it up, picking at one end to peel off a section, Draco realised what it was. He raised an incredulous eyebrow at Albus’s reflection, but said nothing.

Albus smiled confidently. “Arms by your sides, legs comfortably apart.” Draco complied and, starting at Draco’s shoulder, Albus began to wrap him in cling film.

Draco could safely say he had never been wrapped in cling film before, and neither had he ever felt the inclination. As the film squeaked and dragged across his skin, he was still yet to see the appeal.

“How does that feel?” Albus asked when Draco was wrapped from shoulder to ankle. Draco stared ahead into the mirror, noticing his unattractively squashed and limp cock.

“I look like a ham sandwich.”

“I said, how does it _feel_?”

“I _feel_ like a ham sandwich,” Draco replied with a roll of his eyes.

Albus looked thoughtful before reaching for his loose tie and undoing it. For a moment Draco started to worry, then realisation dawned on Albus’s face and he let the tie hang undone around his neck.

“Close your eyes,” he said, stepping behind Draco and that confirmed what Draco had feared. Albus had forgotten Draco’s stipulation of no blindfolds, albeit briefly. Draco needed to stay alert, just in case anything else should temporarily slip Albus’s mind…

As Draco closed his eyes he found it harder to stay balanced, restricted as he was. However, he only swayed back into a firm chest, and Albus’s hands were on his hips, steadying him. The simple contact was warm and welcome through the layers of cling film and Draco realised it was the first time Albus had touched him. _Took him long enough_ , Draco thought derisively.

“Now, keep your eyes closed,” Albus instructed, hot breath ghosting against Draco’s ear, “and tell me how it feels.”

Draco tried to focus on the feeling of his bonds rather than of Albus, temptingly close. “Sweaty,” Draco sneered honestly.

“And?” Albus pressed.

“Restrictive. All-encompassing.” Draco could feel Albus’s smile against his neck.

“Like a big hug?”

“I don’t come here to be _hugged_ ,” Draco sighed, eyes now open once more. “I come here to be tied up and fucked, and I’m starting to wonder if you’re planning to ever get on with it.”

Albus slowly raised his head, eyes meeting Draco’s in the mirror. “I’d call that disrespectful, wouldn’t you?” Draco looked away sheepishly. A perfect demonstration of why every dom should insist on Draco’s silence.

Albus moved around him again, fingertips catching against the cling film and stopping over Draco’s nipple. “I’m afraid you have lost your first treat,” he said in a disappointed tone that Draco had used with Scorpius on numerous occasions.

Albus’s nails dug into the cling film, catching Draco’s nipple as the film tore with a soft pop. He stretched the small hole, bending down to flick his tongue over the little pink nub. Draco inhaled sharply when Albus’s teeth scraped against it then sucked. He arched into Albus’s mouth, grateful of the hands gripping his arms, steadying him. Albus pulled away, hands lingering to make sure Draco had his balance before turning his attention to Draco’s stomach. He tore at the film again over Draco’s navel and plunged his tongue inside, pulling back to blow at the moist skin before repeating the process. This time Draco tried to twitch away but Albus held him still and Draco’s cock thickened once more. It was pressing against the cling film, the pressure both welcome and infuriatingly insufficient.

Draco was beginning to see the appeal of being wrapped up, even if he still felt like leftovers. The usual benefits were there, of course. The comfort and security of being bound was, if anything, heightened by the sheer amount of skin that was covered. The freedom from responsibility, from behaving according to certain ridiculous expectations, was as strong as ever. Draco has always found it freeing to have a certain amount of powerlessness—under the right circumstances, of course—as long as the balance didn’t completely turn turtle.

The benefit to this form of bondage, however, came down to focus. As Albus carefully made another access point, Draco was very aware of those spots of skin that had already received Albus’s attentions. He could focus on the damp coolness there, because so little else could receive any stimulation. Draco moaned, loss of pressure mixing with anticipation as Albus took hold of his cock, guiding it through the hole. Albus was on his knees. He’d carelessly thrown the tie aside and undone the top two buttons of his shirt. He leant forward, just nuzzling against Draco’s cock, rubbing with cheek, nose and lips. It felt pleasant enough.

“I want you to suck my cock, Sir.” He had been instructed to be vocal, after all.

“I know,” Albus grinned as he tore at the cling film and leant down to nuzzle at Draco’s balls. Draco chanced a look down while Albus was occupied, watching his precome smear into that dark mess of hair.

“Are you planning to?” Draco succeeded at sounding nonchalant. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to change Albus’s mind, he simply liked to be in the know.

“Well…” Albus opened his mouth, lips barely skimming the head of Draco’s cock. He bucked slightly, but there was no real leverage. “I _was_ planning to let you come down my throat.” He stands up with a smirk, straightening out his trousers. “But that was before you were disrespectful, so I’m afraid you’ll have to miss out on that treat on this occasion.”

“I understand, Sir.” It wasn’t too great a loss, Draco could name half a dozen other establishments which would guarantee him a more satisfying blow job. As much as he loved his time with a capable dom, they could never quite compete with the enthusiasm of a sub who loved to suck cock.

“Now then,” Albus took half a step back, looking Draco up and down. “I want your arms and legs free for this next bit.”

Draco heard the implicit question. Often the doms here would only bind his wrists and ankles. Some preferred a more intricate pattern that crossed his chest but generally nothing as complete as the binding hug of cling film. Corsetry came close, but the establishment had stopped offering that service some years ago after a near miss during breathplay. At the end of a session it was common for the sub to be unready to part with the corset once they had been otherwise released. Draco could relate. To lose all restriction now would throw his head out of the scene. It would take away the comfort and freedom that he’d so far gained.

“Keep my torso bound, Sir. Please,” he forced himself to add.

“I’m using tape next, I can rebind your torso. I prefer to bind by hand but if you need the pressure to be constant, I can use magic. I’m here for you, after all.” Albus explained himself so clearly, so thoughtfully, that Draco found himself rather awestricken. Usually a dom’s courtesy extended no further than adhering to the sub’s specific agreement, even here, at the most elite establishment in Europe.

Although there was that one troublesome word: need. Draco didn’t like to need. He was perfectly happy wanting, even craving, but not needing. Needing was not in the nature of the rich and powerful. Draco wanted to give his standard answer, _I’d rather you didn’t_ , but given how Albus had chosen to interpret that earlier, it wasn’t worth the risk. Though he were loathed to admit it even to himself, Draco did need the pressure to remain constant.

He felt vulnerable as he said: “Please use magic, Sir.”

Silently, Albus lifted his wand and Draco felt slithers of slim black tape find their way onto his skin. As they crisscrossed his chest and back, Draco wondered what it was he had expected would come from his silent admission. One could expect any Slytherin to notice such a weak moment and at least indulge in a smirk over it, but Albus was no ordinary Slytherin. He was also a Potter, and that combination had intrigued Draco for many years.

“How’s that? Obviously it’s not so easy to take off so I didn’t want to go too mad with it, but I can add more if you need it.”

That accursed word again. Draco took a deep breath, testing the restriction. It wasn’t particularly easy to tell with the cling film still in place but Draco was determined to be stronger than his needs.

“It’s fine, Sir.” And he hoped it was as Albus pocketed his wand and started ripping at the cling film.

It wasn’t an easy task, at times Albus had to use his teeth; it was surprisingly sensual, the brush of lips, the catch of teeth, the warmth of breath. When all was peeled away, Draco did feel rather exposed. The width of the tape was narrow but the slapdash crisscrossing of it ensured quite a good coverage. His breathing deepened without his notice and he felt reluctant to move his arms from where they were plastered firmly against his sides.

But then Albus’s hands were on him, firm but gentle, making long strokes down his arms, his back, his legs, his chest. It was comforting, grounding. Draco’s shoulders loosened, his posture losing its tension, arms flexing slightly to work out the kinks.

“ _Accio cuffs_ ,” Albus said, and four individual leather cuffs flew into his hands. He knelt down to fasten two around Draco’s ankles. “It’s time for your next treat, and you’ve certainly earned this one,” he smiled, securing the other two to Draco’s wrists and leading him over to the green panel on the wall. “Forearms against the wall.”

Draco leaned forward, sticking his arse out and shifting to find a comfortable and convenient angle. He didn’t know exactly what Albus had planned, but he had a fair idea. Albus produced a short rope, feeding it through the cuff’s loop and into a hole in the panel. The panel seemed to swallow the rope up, taking up the slack. When Albus appeared on the other side of him, holding his fingers expectantly to the hole by Draco’s other wrist, Draco understood. The end of the rope soon reappeared, and Albus quickly attached it to the other cuff. He tapped the inside of Draco’s thighs, silently urging them further apart before clipping him into hooks which hadn’t previously been in the floor. Draco turned his head to the side, looking again into the mirror. He liked what he saw. The arch of his back looked particularly inviting. Albus had moved over to the other corner, the one with all the cushions. He dragged a particularly large one back over with him, not without difficulty. All the filling seemed to sag downward as he lifted it, having to raise his arms above his head to keep the ridiculously sized cushion from dragging on the floor. He let it drop just short of where Draco was tied, revealing what else he had in his hand.

A broad ruler.

One end was wrapped with leather strapping, providing a makeshift grip.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes, Sir,” Draco answered without hesitation.

“This first then, I think, then your treat. First I’ll warm up your arse, then I’ll eat it out. How does that sound?”

“Sounds fucking fabulous to me, Sir,” Draco mumbled, and Albus laughed as he got in position.

“Watch.” His tone brooked no argument. Draco made sure he was suitably braced and turned to look in the mirror.

Albus stood to the side and started with small taps, the corners of the ruler catching slightly against his soft flesh but not enough to colour the skin just yet. He quickly moved on to a flicking motion, from the wrist, always looking constantly from his target to Draco’s face in the mirror. Draco had his bottom lip between his teeth, chest finding the limits of the tape as he pulled in sharp breaths in reaction to the bite of wood against his arse. Broad hands stroked over his stinging backside, the occasional pinch or scratch of nails had Draco moaning, arching and pressing back for more. His neglected cock longed to be touched.

Albus took up the ruler once more, pivoting from the elbow now. The slap of the wood was followed each time by Draco’s moan and he twitched away from, then arched back into, the stinging contact. He tried to keep his eyes on the mirror but as Albus’s pace quickened, as the burn built, he found his eyes closing on each blow. Draco heard the ruler clatter to the floor and two hands were on his arse, squeezing and pinching, making him writhe and cry out. Draco pulled uselessly at his wrists, twisting helplessly, but any inch of slack he gained with one would be taken from the other. He didn’t want to break free, quite the opposite, but it felt good to struggle. It reaffirmed the self-assurance that he couldn’t be held responsible for the unbecoming goings on here, because he had been incapacitated. The fact that he had been incapacitated according to the terms he himself laid down was neither here nor there.

Albus grabbed the giant green cushion and dragged it behind Draco. Draco watched, slightly bemused as Albus lightly punched and prodded the strange cushion into submission. When he had it propped up sideways, Albus swung his leg over it and sat down, eye level with Draco’s arse. Albus shifted his hips, kicking his feet back so that he could comfortably lean forward. Draco didn’t miss the briefly blissed out expression as Albus moved, likely enjoying the contact against his cock. He looked good, stretched out in the remains of his suit. As Albus finished fidgeting and reached out, Draco wondered if his bleaching charm had held despite Albus’s earlier efforts.

As Albus spread his cheeks, Draco couldn’t tell. No surprised gasp, no comments, no stunned silence. Just business as usual for Albus as he leaned forward, blowing teasingly against Draco’s hole.

“My bleaching charm didn’t hold, then?” he couldn’t help but enquire.

“Oh, it held,” Albus mumbled between his cheeks before swiping his tongue just once over his pucker.

“And?” Draco all-but-demanded expectantly, hissing as Albus’s fingers dug into his red arse.

“And what? An arsehole tastes like an arsehole, no matter what colour you paint it.”

Draco wanted to protest at that, to argue that all the other doms were stunned by his immaculate arsehole and that such dedication to perfection should be appreciated. He couldn’t manage any of that, however, as Albus dove in unreservedly, flicking his tongue relentlessly across Draco’s entrance. As Albus’s actions caused Draco’s breathing to deepen, he could feel the welcoming constriction of the tape around him.

“Fuck,” Draco whined, “you’re good at that, for a dom.”

Albus chuckled, spreading the wetness along Draco’s crack and across his pucker with his fingers while he pulled back to speak. “Yeah, well, I’m not your typical dom.” He gave Draco a warm look via the mirror before diving back in. He pointed his tongue, pressing just inside and wiggling a little. Draco groaned loudly, tugging again at the rope and arching back for more.

“And—why is that?” he managed to grind out.

“Would you prefer me to be like the others?”

“Well, that’s just—ah!—the way it’s done, isn’t it. The way it should be done.”

Draco keened, hiding his head in the crook of his elbow when Albus moved his mouth away again. Albus kissed and nipped along the delicate flesh where buttock meets thigh, reigniting the almost-forgotten burn from his spanking.

“You’re the only gold ranked client who doesn’t have an assigned dominant partner. Why is that?” Draco had no idea how many gold clients—regular visitors for five years or more—there were so the fact that he was one of an indeterminate number was somewhat lost on him. Slick fingers returned to Draco’s crease as Albus’s mouth moved to the other thigh. The first finger felt odd and uncomfortable, as it always did, but when two fingers slid inside him, Draco rocked back onto them, moaning.

“Perhaps I just like variety.”

Albus didn’t waste any time, he seemed to know when Draco was ready and added a third. Draco welcomed the ache, pushing back best he could.

“No, that’s not it,” Albus replied casually. It should have sounded arrogant, but somehow it didn’t. Draco decided not to dwell on it. He didn’t know why he hadn’t picked a dom. Despite always leaving the establishment satisfied, Draco couldn’t really settle on one dom that he would happily visit every time. Perhaps he feared getting bored, or falling into too much a routine over it. Either way, he suspected that his hesitation to commit said more about him than about the abilities of the workers.

Draco tried to ignore the off-putting noise of Albus’s fingers slipping repeatedly into his slick hole. If he thought about those sounds it made him want to laugh. It was most infantile. He was soon distracted when Albus switched back to two fingers, crooking them and rubbing maddeningly against his prostate. Draco groaned long and low, body twitching involuntarily.

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes, Sir,” Draco answered immediately, slipping easily into the old familiarity.

“Alright then,” Albus shrugged and Draco’s eyes squeezed shut on a high-pitched moan as a hand wrapped around his cock. Draco hadn’t expected it and, with those fingers still massaging mercilessly.

“Fuck, yes…” Draco hissed, “Please, AH! Don’t stop, don’t—Ngh!” Albus’s hand sped up around his cock and Draco could feel his climax rushing towards him. “Close, fuck!”

Draco bucked as he came, head thrown back as a long moan tore from his throat. The fingers slipped gently from his arse, other hand still working slowly over his cock. Draco relaxed into the restraints, head hanging between his shoulders as he tried to catch his breath. As the euphoria ebbed, the hand on his cock was too much. Draco groaned in protest, trying to buck out of Albus’s fist, but Albus persisted.

“I’m ready Sir,” he panted, hoping to distract Albus from his fiendish task.

“Ready for what?” Albus asked with a knowing grin as he stood and kicked the cushion out of the way. Draco vaguely wondered when Albus had removed his waistcoat and undone a couple more buttons.

“To be fucked.” He emphasised the last word, drew it out and savoured it.

“In that case, I’ll go get the dildo,” Albus said cheerily as he turned towards the back wall.

“What?”

“The dildo,” he repeated, turning back to Draco. “To fuck you with.”

It was the most bizarre thing Draco had heard. Now was the time for the main event. Dildos were for teasing, preparing. Draco drew a deep breath, feeling the grounding pressure of the tape around his torso. He tried to think of a respectful way to question Albus’s actions, without showing his frustration.

“Why not your cock, Sir?”

“You said you were ready to be fucked, not that it needed to be with my cock,” he shrugged.

That damnable word again. “It doesn’t _need_ to be your cock, I’d simply prefer it. And it has the added bonus of being readily accessible.” Draco nods in the vague direction of Albus’s groin.

“Well, if my cock is not what you _need_...” Albus reached down, palming himself through his trousers. Draco could see the hard line of it against the fabric and _fuck_ he looked a good size. Perhaps the trousers weren’t as Muggle as Draco had first assumed, given they’d been concealing a giant cock all this time. “I’ll go get the dildo.” And with that, off he went to the back wall again.

Draco bit his tongue. Arguing was unlikely to go in his favour, but there were other ways of being persuasive. Draco was so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed Albus removing his shirt until he was standing topless by his side, wearing only his well-tailored suit trousers. Draco frowned. Albus was now barefoot. He hadn’t noticed that, either. He began to wonder what was wrong with him.

When Albus moved back towards him, Draco’s eyes were on the dildo. It was a mock cock, large, white and circumcised. Draco’s hole twitched reflexively at the thought of it inside him.

“Eager,” Albus commented, rubbing the head of the dildo loosely up and down his crack.

“I’d be more eager if it wasn’t made of silicone, Sir.”

“Well, tell me what you need and I will provide.” Albus gave him a pointed look in the mirror.

“You know what I need,” Draco calmly retorted, refusing to be the first to break eye contact.

Albus laughed, turning away to look at Draco directly. “I’m not playing your games. We’re on my rulebook. And I’m going to fuck you with this toy. Right?”

Draco couldn’t believe Albus’s easy confidence. He didn’t need to threaten, or menace, or show his strength. It was quite clear that he knew how to give pleasure, and how to make a sub want to please him. Draco wanted to please him. He wanted to show him how easily he could take that large cock.

“Yes, Sir. Please, I want you to fuck me with it,” he mewled, arching his back alluringly.

The next thing he knew, he could feel the slick head of it against his hole. Albus pressed it forward slowly, rocking back and forth in small increments as his other hand kept Draco steadied, pressed into the small of his back. Draco inhaled deeply, eyes closed, concentrating on keeping his breathing steady as Albus worked the dildo inside. It was certainly a decent size, he thought as it glanced across his prostate. His cock tried to twitch again at the stimulation, but it didn’t seem to have anything more to give.

Draco could feel the broad base of the toy against his cheeks and knew that he must have taken it all.

“Do it, please Sir,” he begged in the most plaintive tone he could muster.

Albus didn’t hesitate. He slowly pulled it out until just the head was inside of Draco, and smoothly pushed in again. Draco groaned, low and needy, fingers flexing uselessly against the smooth green panel he was tied to.

“You are gorgeous like this,” Albus muttered, and Draco moaned louder, pushing back desperately, silently begging for more. “You are. So unkempt, uninhibited. I love seeing you like this.” The words sent a jolt of pleasure south, but it was too soon for Draco’s cock to show interest again. If he were twenty years younger…

Albus stepped forward, leaning towards Draco’s ear, not ceasing the torturously slow pace of the dildo. He traced around the shell with his nose before bringing his lips to the lobe.

“So needy…” Albus growled, catching Draco’s ear roughly between his teeth.

Draco wanted to growl at him, push him away, shout, anything, but Albus’s lips were on his neck, finding that soft spot by his collarbone. He fucked Draco a little faster, and Draco could feel the tension building. It wouldn’t be enough. Albus would make sure of that.

“Fuck,” Draco snarled angrily, but he couldn’t keep it up. It turned to a whine as he defeatedly pressed his forehead to the wall and asked: “Why are you doing this to me?” He cried out as Albus pulled the dildo free and let it drop to the floor. There was some rustling, and when Draco turned his head, Albus was standing right beside him.

Albus was completely naked.

Draco gawped. Doms here didn’t get naked. They held onto their clothes as a status symbol, emphasising the power difference between them and their vulnerably naked submissive. Albus didn’t look vulnerable. He looked as confident as ever as he brought his hand to Draco’s cheek.

“I understand you,” he said seriously, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss upon Draco’s forehead. Draco’s breathing increased as Albus stared at him, so close that their noses brushed lightly together. “Trust me, Pet.”

Draco knew that it was a breach of his terms. No nicknames, no real names, just ‘Sir’. No one had breached that rule before and, now that they had, Draco found that he didn’t care. It didn’t feel silly, or demeaning. It felt affectionate, and Draco wanted Albus’s affection. He wanted to trust him.

“I need you,” he choked out, trying to pretend that his hands weren’t trembling against the wall. “I need you to fuck me. Please, Sir. I need your cock.”

“Of course, Pet,” Albus smiled softly, letting his fingers stroke through Draco’s hair. Draco leaned into the touch, trying to follow as Albus let his hand fall away. He didn’t care how it made him look, he needed this.

He needed Albus.

He needed his calm confidence, his patience, his creativity and, most of all, his understanding. The huge cock was a bonus, of course.

Albus pushed in quickly, the lube left behind from the dildo enough to ease him inside. He paused, hands rubbing against Draco’s arse cheeks before giving him a firm slap. Draco grunted his encouragement, trying to find the strength in his arms to push himself back from the wall. Albus slapped his arse again and began to move with short, sharp thrusts. It was a deep pleasure, the kind that burns quietly and builds slowly.

A hand crept firmly up Draco’s spine and insinuated itself in his hair. Fingers curled around the strands and _pulled_ , yanking Draco’s head up, angling his face towards the mirror. He panted roughly, consumed by the heady mix of pleasure and pain as Albus’s cock dragged in and out of him.

“Look at you,” Albus grunted, voice rough and low. “ _Look_ ,” he repeated, pulling harder on Draco’s hair. Draco whined loudly, trying to flick his fringe out of his eyes. “You’re wrecked. It’s only my cock and those cuffs keeping you up.”

It wasn’t far from the truth at this point. Draco knew it was about time he admitted that he was getting too old to climax and carry on fucking.

“I’ve dreamt about seeing you like this, you know.”

Draco doubted that, but the words had an effect on him nonetheless.

“Naked, desperate, dishevelled and stretched around my cock.” He let go of Draco’s hair, both hands gripping his hips as he ground into him, hard, slow and deep. Draco cried out a pathetic whimper, palms sliding sweatily against the wall, head hanging forward.

“Fuck, I don’t usually get like this,” Albus muttered, as if to himself. “I want to fuck you hard, Pet. Can you take it? Hard and fast.”

Draco tried to answer, but a strange noise escaped his mouth instead, indiscernible as permission or denial. Instead, he nodded fervently.

“Fuck, yes,” Albus shouted, finally thrusting with abandon, his thick cock dragging ceaselessly across Draco’s prostate. Draco managed to turn his head towards the mirror when he heard Albus chuckle, not breaking his breath-stealing rhythm. “I can’t believe you’re hard again already. That’s impressive.”

“You…” Draco managed to drag out.

“I’m impressive?” he panted out, and Draco nodded again. Albus laughed, bright but broken by his laboured breaths. Draco smiled in return. He liked that sound. He wanted to hear more of it.

“Bloody hell, I’m close, can you come again?”

Draco roughly shook his head, but Albus’s hand snaked its way around him anyway. With a few rough pulls, Draco was crying out as he came again, little more than a dribble spilling over Albus’s hand.

Draco felt fuzzy, in a good way. A really good way. He felt like he was falling, he reached out, but Albus was already there.

“Shh, it’s okay… I’ve got you. Just lie down, Pet.”

Draco let Albus guide him, sighing as he sank into a cushion, which seemed to come up around him in an embrace. There was a stroking pressure against his head. It was nice.

He felt… different. He felt exhausted, satisfied and sore in all the right places. There was a pulling at his wrists, then his ankles and he found himself free of the cuffs. Draco hummed appreciatively as the hands lingered, fingertips massaging the affected area, soothing down his feet and slowly up again.

Albus was mumbling, cursing, rustling around. Draco couldn’t muster the sense to care. He did grumble, however when Albus moved him. It was uncomfortable, then it was dim, then it was too bright, then he was… wet?

Draco blinked slowly, shaking his head to try and clear it. He was in a large bath. The room was tiled, and very white. Albus was sitting nearby, in clean pants and a vest, looking slightly concerned.

“Where are we?” Draco sounded as though he had a cheese grater lodged in his throat.

“My changing room.” He smiled at Draco’s surprised expression. “They don’t actually put any charms up, only on the sub’s room. The establishment protects its clients, especially the gold ones.”

“But not its employees?”

“I never said that,” Albus said, a pointed warning in the way he looked at Draco. He leant forward, reaching into the bath and pressing a finger against the tape still sticking to Draco’s torso. He looked up inquiringly and, when Draco nodded, slowly pulled the tape off. The warm water made it peel off easily, painlessly. Albus kept his eyes on his work as he carried on freeing Draco of his bonds. “So, now what?”

“You tell me, I’ve never been in a dom’s changing room before.”

“I mean,” Albus sighed, “will you… be back?”

“Of course I’ll be back,” he answered automatically, sitting up so that Albus could get to the tape on his back. “I always come back.”

“And you’ll still be a gold orphan?”

He’d heard that term before, here. An orphan was a client who had not yet chosen a regular partner. Draco worried his bottom lip between his teeth, looking anywhere but at Albus, who was looking anywhere but at him. It felt so awkward now that the scene was over. They were just Draco and Albus again, but with a new history between them. Baggage.

Feelings, perhaps.

“I… might not.” It was clear what decision Draco had to make. There was no guarantee, however, that his request would be accepted. The establishment had to approve all matches before the dom had a say but Draco, as the client, had to make the first move.

“It can’t hurt to ask, right?”

“Right,” Draco muttered before clearing his throat. “Would you mind helping me out?”

Albus grabbed Draco’s elbows, steadying him as he stood and stepped out of the bath. He was ready with a towel, wrapping it gently around Draco and stepping back slightly.

“I’ll, um, be needing my clothes…” Draco pointed out, when Albus proceeded to just stand there looking awkward.

“Yeah! Of course, sorry. Here's your wand and your room’s through this way.” Albus opened a door and Draco stepped through into the hallway of their suite. He reached for the handle to his changing room, but turned back when Albus cleared his throat.

“If… If you did want to, y’know, not be an orphan anymore and you applied…” Albus took a step forward, some semblance of the self-assurance he’d shown in the play room making itself known as he looked into Draco’s eyes. “The establishment’s word isn’t final. There are… ways.” Albus brought his hand up, hesitating briefly before pushing a rogue strand of Draco’s hair behind his ears. “I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Alright,” Draco muttered, and with a nervous smile, Albus stepped back into his changing room. Draco opened his door.

“Wait!”

Draco couldn’t help but scoff as he turned again.

“Who’s paying for the session?” Albus’s grin made it clear that he already knew the answer.

“I think that’s fairly obvious, don’t you?”

“I don’t know, you could still sub drop on me.” It was said in humour, but Draco wasn’t oblivious to the very real concern behind it.

Draco stepped forward, adjusting his towel to keep it up one-handed as he reached out to cup Albus’s jaw. He leaned in, gently pressing his lips to Albus’s.

“Thank you,” Draco whispered and, with a small smile, he exited into his changing room.

As he towel-dried his hair, Draco’s brain tried to dissect everything that had happened that day, but he just couldn’t stay focussed. He felt exhilarated. He felt free, even though the session was over. He felt… wanted. That was certainly new.

Draco stood naked again in front of the full-length mirror, taking in the pattern of light pink streaks decorating his chest. Fingerprint bruises adorned his hips and his arse showed evidence of teeth as well as the ruler. He loved reviewing the evidence of the session, remembering his flawless skin before the fact and revelling in the comfort that, as soon as the blemishes faded, he could simply return for more.

He wasn’t sure what would happen next. For the first time in five years, next month didn’t seem soon enough. He would wait, however. Follow the procedures, for now. One way or another, he would belong to Albus.

After all, there were… ways.

_Fin_


End file.
